The One With the Soccer Match
by TagTheScullion
Summary: Based loosely on last year's Champion League's final. A Solangelo oneshot featuring Nico being a sore loser, and Will being madly in love with him.
**First of all, I love Solangelo. I always thought Nico would be one to love soccer, because Italians are usually quite into it, and him being a Juventus fan is just me liking that team, to be honest. I thought it'd be funny if Will didn't really get the point of it. This has been on my mind since last year's Champions League final.**

 **PJO belongs to Rick Riordan**

* * *

The first time it'd happened, Will had been shocked. Never in a million years would he have guessed Nico could be so passionate about anything. Sure, they'd been living together for two weeks, but honestly, it was the first Sunday he'd been home during the afternoon.

Shifts at the hospital ER had him sleeping in bizarre, not recommended patterns, and the last thing he expected when opening the door to their modest apartment at 4pm was his boyfriend screaming profanity to their living room TV.

He was worried for half a second. Perhaps some catastrophe had happened in California, where Nico's sister lived. The fear passed, however, when he listened a bit more carefully. The yelling was in Italian. Will was sure that if Nico was fretting over someone they both knew and cared about, he'd do it in English. At least for the sake of the neighbours. Who were probably wondering what was happening for the usually quiet young man to be so out of himself.

Will had left his keys on the bowl they used as a key-holder, and his jacket on the hook beside the door. Curiosity quickened his pace towards his boyfriend's whereabouts, and when he got a good look at the room, he almost scoffed out loud.

Nico was sitting restlessly on the edge of their worn couch, wearing proudly a stripped, black-and-white shirt. Every few seconds, he'd mess up his hair, or shift slightly. His eyes were glued to their TV. Will was actually surprised Nico hadn't heard him come in, as the brunet was more often than not very careful of who entered their home. His eyes flickered from one corner of the screen to the other, following something Will couldn't catch from his angle.

Walking slowly as to avoid startling Nico, he moved to stand behind him on the couch. The TV was featuring a soccer match. Figured.

Will knew Nico loved the sport. It was the one thing he'd accepted to do in school. He knew Nico loved Italy's national team more than anything, but he hadn't realised Nico was such a big fan of some lesser team.

Nico yelled happily, startling Will out of his thought. As Nico raised his arms in celebration, he accidentally punched the blond's left arm.

Just as quickly as Will cursed under his breath, Nico's head had turned in utter surprise.

"Jeez, sorry," he apologised quickly. "I didn't hear you arrive!"

* * *

Since their little mishap, Will had tried to understand a bit more about the sport his boyfriend loved so much. Nico had told him the basic rules –that Will hadn't understood at all-, and that there were many teams he liked, but his favourite was Juventus –he'd called it _Juve_ with that cute little accent that made Will all mushy inside-.

It was all good, Will thought, it was a way his boyfriend had to let off some steam. Juventus won enough times for Nico to be rather happy about overall results. It helped, Will believed. Or that was until one late-spring afternoon he saw Nico mumbling angrily towards the TV.

The first sign that something was wrong, was that Nico wasn't yelling. Not that Will cared, since having the brunet scream orders to small-looking people inside a box wasn't in his priority list, anyway. But if Nico had resigned himself to murmur curses under his breath, it meant the match wasn't going as planned.

Carefully, he sat next to the young man.

"Who's playing?" he asked patiently.

Nico took half a glance towards him, and turned back to the screen.

"My team against Barça," he blurted. Before Will could react, he added, "It's the Champions final. It's important, but I don't think…"

"Don't think what?"

"We don't have many chances," he offered weakly, pulling a hand through his hair.

Will was about to chuckle at his boyfriend's drama over something as impertinent as losing a single game. And then he saw Nico's broken hearted eyes stare hopelessly into the game.

"Surely, there must be!" he insisted. "Otherwise they wouldn't have got to the final. How good can that other team be, anyway? _Barsah,_ or whatever."

Nico, surprisingly, peeled his attention off the TV long enough to stare funnily at Will. The brunet raised an eyebrow, as if expecting Will to realise how dumb his comment was. Will glanced around nervously before shrugging.

"Bar- _ça_ ," he stressed. "Has two of the best players of this century, if not more."

Will huffed in understanding. Or so he hoped. Nico wasn't fooled. He pointed at three of the guys running near one of the nets.

"Those three," he said slowly. Will saw that they were wearing blue and red. "Are the best trio of forwards the world has seen in a long time. And one of our players couldn't make it, so we have a substitute –who isn't doing exactly great at the moment-."

After that, Will decided he would just shut up and pretend to be as consumed by the match as Nico was. In the end, Juventus lost by 2 points, or goals, or… Will frowned. Soccer was such a weird game. Admittedly, Will wasn't much of a sports person. He could attempt some basketball and volleyball but that was the extent of his physical ability.

Nico rolled his eyes, and left.

Will gave him three minutes of head start, and personal space. He knew Nico could be a sore loser sometimes. He went to see where the young man had left to, and found him lying down on the bed.

Leaning against the door-frame he smiled. Nico could behave like a kid, and Will found it endearing. Or he usually did until his boyfriend started becoming a nuisance. He really hoped Nico would get over this soon enough.

"Hey," he called softly.

Nico grunted in reply.

"I was thinking maybe we could get some tacos for din…"

"No!" Nico spat, sitting up quickly. "I want no Spanish spoken under this roof."

Will rolled his eyes. This was when his boyfriend's antics became annoying. Had he been fluent in it, he'd have started speaking only in Spanish. This guy had to grow up a bit. A game was just a game, after all, fanatic or not.

"Look," the blond started. But Nico held up a hand. Will thought for the thousandth time that if anyone tried to hold his boyfriend's hands still, he'd refuse to talk. Nico gesticulated so much. It was enhancing. He shook his head internally. If he wanted to play grown up, he'd have to get over his infatuation.

"I know you think I exaggerate," Nico said tiredly. "But this was really important. Soccer is important to me, and I'm here in a place where most people don't mind it very much, and it's… I know it sound silly, but it's kind of a connection to where I come from…"

"That, and making pasta every time you have kitchen duty," Will added in an undertone.

Nico furrowed his brow, "No, that's just me being lazy."

Will laughed.

"Alright," he decided. He couldn't get a strong grip on Nico, he was the spoiling one in their relationship anyway. As much as he tried to make change the brunet's mind, Nico ended up doing whatever he wanted to. "Let's do this. You choose what take-out we'll have. And I pick a movie. That way you can take off your mind from the game, yes?"

Nico hesitated for a second, "Yes," he accepted with a sight of defeat. "As long as it isn't from Spain," he threw in as an afterthought.

Will smirked. That meant Nico had settled for no more drama that evening. They could just enjoy a meal and a movie.


End file.
